


burning homeland

by flowergrande



Category: South Park
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2015-11-23
Packaged: 2018-04-29 03:29:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5114321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowergrande/pseuds/flowergrande
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>tweek's ex boyfriend burnt out like a fire after high school and made sure to drag tweek through the flames. four months later the burns are tender to touch. craig is just the catalyst who came out unscathed and now works in the coffee shop that tweek called home.<br/>angsty teens trying to be adults au. chapter two completed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. i.)

**Author's Note:**

> remember: it's an au, not a rlf, so it may be a little inaccurate.  
> Xx

It was funny how the smallest things, like a crack in the grey pavement could send Tweek off. It wasn't the pavement's fault for being the colour of the ash that floated to the ground from the cigarette of a sad boy, and it certainly wasn't to blame for having the same shaped cracks as those in the palms of someone who cried too often-- but Tweek couldn't help it.

You see, after four months of throwing up apples because they were the scent of his old shampoo, you get a little tired of always being the one to blame. Especially because your friends tell you that he started to smell like spearmint the day after you split up, especially when you told him that you'd always fucking hated spearmint.

Tweek had learned that with sad boys, you can't trust them. Their cigarettes only smell out your car and their hands are too rough on your back when you bare your soul to them.

Fucking grey cracks in the pavement. The memories and the saltwater Tweek could taste in his mouth. It was all their fault.

The saltwater was intensifying, and Tweek had to sit down on the park bench under the tree in the park, which had, ironically been the exact bench that they had engraved their names into like typical nineties teenagers, hopelessly in love. This time, was all different. Tweek was different, and his twitching, which had dissipated when he was around the one boy he'd ever loved, returned as he gave in and thought about them for the first time in a good few months.

His name was Clyde, and he was the first living thing to ever want to be watered by Tweek. They had known each other from elementary school, although never really talking, they had passed each other knowingly in the halls, and there was always an unusual interest. They had occasionally become friends through a mutual friend, by the name of Craig, but had never bothered to know each other. But they knew the other existed, and for awhile, that was enough.  
It wasn't until the summer of sophomore year when Clyde and him had run into each other, by some sick twist of fate, in the poorly lit hall of a dark and tired motel on coast of Manhattan, did they ever speak, just the two of them.

Tweek noticed that Clyde had grown to be very tall and had obviously become uncomfortable in his skin, something Tweek had always privately thought Clyde was. He still had the same nose and the same hair, and as it appeared, hadn't given up his softness-- he was just...

Sad. Like, a constant sadness, that wasn't apparent but it was there, and it was killing him from the inside.

It was odd, but Tweek had found Clyde's desolation and desperate call for love as something attractive. He wanted to objectify him and fix him, like he was some kind of smashed glass to be pieced back and mended for a better cause. For selfish reasons. They swapped numbers, and when they went back home they met up in alleyways and kissed against grimy brick walls.

Tweek found that Clyde knew a lot about the world. He showed him the wonder of the Beat Generation and painted night skies onto his skin with water colours. He showed him how the colour black was deeper, and happier than the pretension of a dying yellow. He took his virginity on the beach and wiped all of the sand burns out with saltwater.

It was love, Tweek insisted. Possibly not happy love, but it was love, and it was deep and it was true. At least, so he thought.

On the eve of their four year anniversary, Tweek was busy with his mother who had been terribly injured in a car crash, and didn't expect to return home for another week. Of course, Clyde understood, but it didn't stop him from being upset about it.

As it turned out, Tweek's mother was stable, and he was able to return to his beloved boyfriend to celebrate their anniversary and decided to surprise him. As he walked in, he saw Clyde in bed with his childhood friend, Craig.

Tweek didn't feel, but he sure tasted saltwater. Nothing had ever really been the same since.

Even through memories, it burned just as bad at nineteen years old, but he just felt used. It turned out Clyde hadn't loved him for quite some time, because apparently, sad boys just take and then leave when they can't take any longer. This time Tweek felt dizzy as he subconsciously tried to gouge out the engravement made so long ago, it was all too much.

All because of a crack in the pavement. It wasn't the first to trip him either.

-

Tweek had managed to find his way through the melting snow for so many miles until he found the coffee shop that made him feel less like drowning. The warmth and the feeling of home that this place had always calmed the anxiety he had carried like a heavy weight his whole life.

This coffee shop was fairly new in town, it had a quirky one word name and made Tweek feel like it was night when it was day. It had beanbags and beautiful boys with Macbooks scattered like a glitter through the place. It had vintage decor and beautifully written chalk boards. There was a comfort in a place like that, but he had never really understood why. There was an aura, a warmth, that just couldn't be found these days. Or maybe it was just him. Or maybe it was the fact that it was the exact same coffee shop his parents used to own before they had to sell when his mother died.

The sweet silver bell rang as Tweek nervously opened the door, and almost as if- as soon as it rang- he felt like he could have just forgotten everything that had been troubling. It was one of the very few happy things he had left, so there was no way in hell he was going to hide such a thing. So he wiped his eyes and had reason to go on.

He approached the counter, expecting the waitress who looked like she lived in a heartbreak hotel to ask him what he wanted, despite always having the same double shot black coffee. No sugar. She was sweet enough. With a teaspoon, still. No need to waste a napkin.

However, when he got to the counter he was met with the cold blue eyes of a past affliction, and it took him a second.

"Can I take your order" asked the boy with a certain shut down aggressiveness that Tweek could recognise without any hesitation.

It was funny, how the world worked. Tweek had been a good person his whole life. Sure, he was maybe trouble in school, but not to the hindrance of anyone around him. Maybe he wasn't always so kind to his mother, and sure he'd regretted it. And yeah, he didn't always treat Clyde with the unconditional love that he so desperately needed. But overall, Tweek had never hurt anyone. He had tried, his whole life, to be a good fucking person.

And this... This was how the universe had treated him.

The constant taste of burning saltwater and now a walking reminder about the one vulnerability he so deeply harbored was now residing in the only place Tweek felt like home in.

"Uh.. Yeah.. Um." He said, stumbling over the thoughts in his head, his shaking becoming so obvious as he repeatedly brushed down his sweater, "Double black shot coffee, sugar no, teaspoon and an extra napkin please, uh, yeah."

At the sound of his voice, Tweek watched the colour wash like water from the prominent apples of this boy's cheeks. The dark haired beauty looked up from his hands to meet Tweek's eyes, and in that moment, it was like the walls were closing in.

"An-ything else" He asked was a quiet stammer.

It was a small moment before Tweek could answer. There were so many questions, more than he knew that the boy had the answers to. Of course, none related to coffee, so he chewed on the inside of his mouth and left everything still for a moment.

"No thanks, Craig."

"That'll be--"

"--$4.90."

*

Tweek hated where he lived. It was a revival of the seventies, but never in a quirky way. With it's peach walls stained with the hot coffee of the many artists who had become angered at their work, and above all, the light call of a happier time that flooded the worn carpet like sunlight.

He shared it with two other boys, Kenny McCormick, the town's local philanderer who worked at the nightclub five days a week; and Kevin Stoley, an odd boy who had a weird obsession with the stars and comic books, but was nice enough.  
Kenny's girlfriend, Bebe Stevens, used to live with them, too, and she was the one who would tidy up and keep the place looking not nearly half as dark as it was, but in the winter of the year before, the two split up, and everything had kind of been different then. Tweek didn't really like change.

It was a house, essentially, that's how everyone fit. It was old and worn down, with creaky floorboards. It was easily seen that many people had lived there in the years before Tweek moved out of his parents' and into the house they called 'Miss Daisy'. However, it seemed like Miss Daisy was no home. She was cold, perhaps had been hurt many years ago-- but she was theirs, and that was all that mattered.

Tweek lay on his back, staring at the ceiling as he listened to the rhythmic thumping of Kevin throwing a small rubber ball at the wall and catching it again. Kevin leaned against the pale bedpost and almost faded in with the ceramic interior, so Tweek just watched him with wonder. Tweek didn't do a lot except watch people these days. Study them, wonder what went wrong in their lives, wonder why they are where they are at that specific time. Wonder if they'd ever had their hearts ripped out with such force that it began to physically hurt just to breathe. Such innocent things.

"Do you think," Tweek said in a monotone, as his eyes fixed on the purple bruise that danced around the edge of Kevin's collarbone, "Do you think that things would be better if we could fly?"

Kevin didn't say anything for a moment, not moving. He just stared at the wall, then the ball, then his hand, then the wall. A repetitive motion, that was, frankly really starting to get on Tweek's nerves, making his left eye twitch in the anticipation of having to sit and watch.

"No, because then we'd want more." Kevin said simply, and finally, let the ball go as he spoke, "Then we'd want to swim and never have to come up to breathe. Then if we got that we'd want to be able to run without getting tired. We want a lot of things. Then we want more."

Tweek chewed on his bottom lip when Kevin said this, not saying anything, because he knew that he was irrefutably correct. Tweek knew firsthand that it was hard not to want more when you are given just an inch. It's hard not to be overcome with a desire to consume more and more, and just expect.

Tweek knew this, not because he always expected more, but because others expected from him. He knew that he was different. It seemed that he was never in a position to take from anyone, so he just gave, and it was exhausting. Being an outlet of emotional charity had taken it's toll on him, but there were people who needed it more than he did.

Kevin was not like this, however. Kevin was introverted, sure, and never really expressed his feelings because he never knew how, but he surely did not take when Tweek gave him an opening to. It was selfish, but that was why Tweek liked Kevin so much.

The room was quiet for quite some time. Comfortable, but silent, besides the soft breathing of the other. Tweek didn't like silence, it gave him too much room to think. That's why he always had the radio on in the car, and always had his iPod playing through the speakers. The one thing that Tweek was scared of was in his head, and it was that stupid voice that kept calling Clyde's name. Four months and nothing could stop the echo.

"I saw Craig today." Tweek said, breaking the silence.

Kevin didn't speak for a moment, but the way he moved his mouth told Tweek that he was thinking, thinking.

"Fucking Craig. You'd think he'd be hiding his face in this town." Kevin said, riling himself up as he spoke. He began to dig his fingernails into the ball he had previously been throwing. Usually Kevin's mannerisms would have made Tweek smile, but he couldn't bring himself to. Not today.

"I wonder if he knows where--"

"--Don't you dare. God, don't you dare," Kevin interrupted Tweek, and he was right in doing so, "Whine all you want about Craig, he's just a dick regardless, but you need to stop with the talk of that wanker. You're like a broken record. Clyde, Clyde, Clyde. Do you not remember how he fucked you up?"

"Have some sympathy, will you?" Tweek said, biting back at Kevin harder than he had meant to.

"I had sympathy for three months, now you just need to get dicked-up so you'll stop crying about it." Kevin remarked with a shrug. Sometimes Kevin was too harsh on Tweek, but he was always, always right.

It was quiet in the room again, and Tweek didn't say anything, just rested his head against the bed with a sigh. Maybe in the last three months he had been taking a little more from his friends. It was hard not to have four months of seawater after four years of roses.

"I love you." Tweek said, turning his head to look at Kevin.

"I know you do."

And for the first time in awhile, Tweek smiled.

**

What better time for seven consecutive hookups around the back of a rusty shed with closeted teenage boys than a party? Especially a birthday party. Especially a close friend's birthday party.

Butters was Kenny's best friend, and they had been joint at the hip since middle school. Butters made sure to visit when he had a break from College, because he said he'd rather come to stay with them than go to his parents' house; he had a troubled past. They always welcomed him because he had always looked after them in a comforting way, he was a kind person. Kindness was rare, they had all agreed, and so was Butters.

The reason that Butters was in town this time was because it was his twentieth birthday in less than twenty four hours and he wanted to spend it with the people he loved. His friends.  
He was expecting a small gathering, perhaps in a quiet and modern restaurant, and then they'd go back home, do some shots, play some games and go to bed. The usual birthday agenda, but it seemed Kenny had other plans.

Kenny had organised a surprise party in the town hall and planned to invite anyone they'd ever even been acquainted to, because he knew none of them would refuse. Why? Because it was Butters, and Butters was a good fucking person.

However exciting that gathering sounded, Tweek didn't want to go. The prospect of being in the same room as Clyde and Craig at the same time made him want to physically vomit up his own heart. He would have, had the two of them not eaten it already.

But it was Butters, and he couldn't keep being so damn selfish, so he had to suck it up. Plus, he got to hook up with cute boys, get wasted and have it all warranted.

Kevin had disappeared to meet up with some mystery girl, who he refused to talk about, planning to return to pick up Tweek on the way home and they'd go to the party together. Tweek decided to just leave Kevin alone for awhile, because he needed to learn to do things alone again. That, and his eye twitching was getting bad at the thought of having to face Clyde and Craig, and it was embarrassing. Not that Kevin cared, but Tweek did, especially because it was so few these days that it really did affect him when it happened.

Tweek decided that his first quest for independence until eight that night was to get alcohol with his trusty ID, and try to act older than nineteen. He actually went to school with the weekend cashier from the liquor store, and they were friends back in high school. So why she believed his poor fake ID, he didn't know. He suspected she didn't really care.

"You coming out tonight, Wendy?" Tweek asked as he slid a bottle of vodka so she could scan it. He saw a smirk on her face as she picked up the bottle to do so.

"Can't. Stan asked me to babysit while he goes. I can't miss an opportunity to see them. You know how it is." Wendy replied as she tilled up the numbers, not even bothering to ID him.

Tweek didn't say much else, because he didn't really know how he could comfort her, or if she even wanted to be comforted. The whole topic was a bit touchy with Wendy.

When Wendy was fifteen, she got pregnant to a boy she didn't even know when her and her boyfriend, Stan, were on a break. Of course, being the raised Roman Catholic she was, decided against termination and dedicated her life to raising this baby, determined to be a good, strong single mother. However, not everything worked to plan, and when her and Stand did decide to get back together, she fell pregnant for the second time when she was seventeen. They accepted that it wasn't ideal, but they already had one, so what was another?

They were happy, for awhile, but when Wendy wasn't able to attend any of her four applied Ivy League schools because they wouldn't allow her to have her kids on campus-- things didn't seem to be so happy anymore.

It seemed petty, when they looked back on it, but Wendy was the type of person they all presumed would one day be head of state, or at the very least, the Mayor of whichever town she resided in. But one mistake, one drunken, angry, heartbroken mistake and she was destined to work in a liquor store.

There were several occasions which proved Wendy's slow spiral, but Tweek could only really account for the few he had witnessed himself.  
He had a distinct memory of Wendy being held in Kenny's arms as she threw up on his favourite sweater, while Tweek was on the phone to the emergency hotline trying to recall what he had heard her slur she had taken. He remembered the time that she was lying around in the gutter, blacked out while Stan was trying to pick her up, but she was such a dead weight that he just couldn't. He could think of the time he bumped into her in the bathroom as she did lines of cocaine, hearing the voice of Clyde in his ear whispering "that's someone's mother".

They watched her spiral so far out of control in a few months alone, from the perfect and educated Wendy Testaburger, to the shell of a woman, dancing through tears on top of a table. To be frank, it wasn't really a shock when Stan left her and was granted, in the court of law, the full custody of her two children, one of which wasn't even his.

However, two years had passed and she was slowly recovering. She would never be the same, but being allowed a stay over with her girls was a massive leap. For that, Tweek was happy for her.

"Fair enough. I'll see you soon." Tweek said, handing over his money.

Wendy smiled as she took it, "Sounds good, T. Say hi to Clyde for me."

It was a moment's silence before,

"Fuck, I'm sorry. Habit. You okay?"

Tweek didn't say anything, but he didn't cry, which was new. He just lifted up the bottle of vodka in response and went off to the party.


	2. ii.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> there's a party in town, and they're all there. tweek really struggles with his thunderstorm of emotions and the foreign concept of facing his fears. maybe, just maybe, it's time to grow up a bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> note: trigger warnings-- mentions of being beaten up, mentions of homophobia, mentions of eating disorders. they aren't majorly played out because, like many, Tweek doesn't want to relive things in his mind. still, better safe than sorry.

The sun always seemed prettier when it was kissing South Park goodbye for the hours it would be gone. However, it seemed like that for everything in the days when everyone was leaving. Kevin had called them the 'breakup glasses', which applied to everything that was horrible before it left. In this instance, Tweek had his break up glasses on for the sun.

Naturally, for Tweek and his skin white like morning fresh milk, he was never exactly _in love_ with the sun. Then would come the time for it to leave, so Tweek would pop-on his trusty break-up glasses and beg for it not to depart. However, like many things, it left anyway.

Of course, it wasn't the actual sun he would miss that night, it was the light it provided. When he thought about it, this would be the first time he was alone when it was dark outside in months. He had always had an easily frightened nature, so he had always avoided walking in the dark-- until then, in that moment, when he had no other choice.

He knew that it was time for him to grow up, seriously. He had become so dependent on the protection of other people he couldn't even walk in the fucking dark without his heart beating faster than the ticking of his watch. Tweek tried his absolute best to stop being such a damned baby, but as his hand instinctively pulled tighter on his bottle's neck, he excused himself.

He, once again, excused himself. However, this time for his fear of the dark and the fear of being alone. What next?

-

Tweek had actually had a terrible experience with the darkness and being alone when he was seventeen and feeling awkward in his skin.

It was winter and Tweek had recently fought with Clyde so decided to cut off his nose to spite his face and just walk home alone. Clyde had actually pleaded with Tweek to please, _please_ , just get in the car, it's _dangerous_ \-- but of course, being the person he was, Tweek just stormed further into the darkness.

He remembered his teeth chattering something mad, and his nose reddening the colour of the roses he was going to apologise with in the morning. Since Tweek's source of insulation during that fight was an old jersey of Clyde's, he naturally took it off and threw it dramatically on the floor before storming out. Of course, like many things in his life, moments later Tweek regretted his actions because hindsight was a bitch. Also, his nose had begun to run.

Prideful and ignoring Clyde's pleas from the car driving slowly beside him, Tweek began to run down alleyways so that he could escape his boyfriend, forcing him to just go home. Tweek needed his alone time to cool off, not that he wasn't already freezing enough as it was.

Before trouble followed him, Tweek remembered hearing the sound of a car door slam reverberating off the cold, dripping walls of the alleyway, and that should have been sign enough to call his boyfriend to come and pick him up-- but arrogant as ever, Tweek couldn't do such a thing.

The noises of other people shuffling around him began to set a deep worry in Tweek's chest as the alley seemed to get darker as he paced. It was like the brick walls moved in on him, when a place he had walked so many times in the bright light of day, had become so unfamiliar when strange noises and darkness deceived him.

His chest started to move frantically and involuntarily, eyes stinging, blindness-- something wasn't right. He reached into his pocket for his phone and fumbled before grabbing it. However, it was just seconds too late.

Almost as though it was in his ear, he heard a loud, deep, booming voice yell a homophobic slur, and Tweek just fucking knew that it was for him.

And he was in trouble.

Quite honestly, Tweek could never remember anything past that point.

He remembers pressing 911 and not directly speaking, just sort of shouting. He remembers blood, the crack of his nose, but that was about it. Nothing really resonated, and he couldn't actually remember feeling pain at the time, which was a blessing. Thankfully, a lot of his injuries healed before he woke from the coma, and when he did wake, he was so drugged he couldn't really feel a thing. 

Except a lot of regret. A lot of regret about coming out.

-

Tweek looked at the setting sky with a pain in his chest. It was a pain that was different to what he felt in that alleyway. It was almost as if his chest was telling him that if he did make a stupid decision, if he did get jumped, he didn't have a boyfriend to lie next to him for two weeks straight. Oddly enough, that feeling made Tweek want to get jumped, skip a bit of time, hope that his emotional wounds would heal in the same way again. Pretentious, but Tweek would take broken bones over a broken heart any day.

He walked down the cooling street, all the way to the hall trying his hardest to stop thinking. Somehow, it all lead back to Clyde, so it was easier to not think at all.

*

Tweek got there early to meet Kenny to help him set up.

Actually, he had been invited over out of kindness, not because they knew he'd actually be any help. Between his twitching and the desire to work out never grabbing him, Tweek didn't exactly have the versatility that the other boys had, and this he knew. However, this didn't stop him from accepting their invitation because he loved their company and they loved his tea. He was actually, really there because of his fucking great tea.

When Tweek arrived, he was greeted by Kenny who did as Kenny always does and enveloped him in a hug tight enough to suggest that they hadn't seen each other in months. This one, however, was especially tight. Tweek had noticed everyone had been doing that with him lately. He both cursed them for treating him like a broken china doll, and thanked them, because they knew him better than anyone.

Especially Kenny, sweet, soft Kenny, who, having only been broken up with not even a year ago, would most definitely know.

Still, to prove his ever fragile masculinity, Tweek questioned this behavior aloud, "You alright, mate? It's only been about six hours?" 

"I have deeply rooted abandonment issues." Kenny said with a smirk that made Tweek breathe harshly out of his nose out of courtesy, "Also, I thought you wouldn't show up. I'm just expressing my gratitude."

"Alright, don't cry on me, please." Tweek said with a wink. At the Kenny just scoffed, and rounded Tweek up into the kitchen for the tea to begin.

Just as expected, other than the tea, Tweek really was 'fuck all help', in the words of just about everyone there-- but they all knew that it was for the best, because as soon as the gazebo was ready to be put up by the group, his ex boyfriend arrived at the gate with the boy that he had cheated with.

At the sight, for the first time in four months, Tweek felt a hurricane. There was no other way to put it other than feeling like an absolute hurricane. Not necessarily on him, through him or over him. He just felt a hurricane somewhere deep beneath his ribs where Clyde used to reside. That little place just by his heart that screamed that he was home.

Except he wasn't.

He wasn't home, because that home didn't exist. He had ripped up the floorboards and broke all the glass windows with his hands when he slept with another boy. The other boy being his gardener. His gardener who had cut the heads from the roses and tried to plant them, dead, in his safe place. His gardener who had tried to follow him to his parent's house-- his childhood home.

Tweek knew that he would see them, but he wasn't prepared when it happened. Much like the affair, which Tweek knew was coming, but he still ended up being the one who drowned.

He couldn't stop watching. The glass of the window from the kitchen to the yard was slightly cracked, his vision was slightly cracked, but he couldn't miss the slight brush of hands that Craig shared with the hands that used to be Tweek's. It seemed to play over and over in his vision, even though he _knew_ , that it only happened once. It played slower, and slower, and slower, and _slower_ \--

-until Tweek opened his eyes to see them standing on opposite sides of the yard, talking like nothing had happened. Nothing had happened. Tweek wasn't thinking straight, or at all, or too much-- whatever it was he needed to stop. He looked away from the window and turned around to put his weight on his hands so they'd stop tapping so loudly. It was all in his head. Everything outside, everything between them was all in his head and he, thus far, hadn't figured out how to turn his thoughts off.

In the moments of his deep self reflection, he saw a flicker of red and pale blue passing from the crack in the doorway. A part of him held his breath, knowing that he would have to act like everything was okay. Tweek actually found the burden of being so deeply unhappy more troublesome than the actual feeling itself. Then it wasn't just his problem, and Tweek found a hell of a lot of weight in that. 

Except for this instance. On this specific occasion, it was Kevin. He didn't even think, he just reached out and pulled him in for a long hug.

"Are you doing okay?" Kevin asked with caution.

"I will be okay. I will be. I will." Tweek said quietly into Kevin's neck.

They let go, and Tweek relaxed against the counter top to look at Kevin completely. Tweek always had a knack for reading people, in fact, in high school people used to come to him for their 'horoscopes if horoscopes were accurate', based on things he could pick up. Things he could read from the discomfort in their own skin, something which Kevin had in spades. Kevin, in particular, was incredibly uncomfortable in his own teenage skin, with the long limbs he hadn't yet worked out, and the the dark hair- which, no matter how many times he washed it, was always so greasy. Tweek could also always sense a constant anxiety, which had faded over the years, but on this particular day, he could detect again. Anxiety but satisfaction. He took a step back at that second, and saw something else.

"You look well-fucked. Nice. How is the mystery girl?" Tweek said with a wink.

A wide smile instantly spread across Kevin's face like some kind of domino effect, "He's good. It's-"

At that, Kevin stopped dead in his tracks. His face paled, and although he tried to grasp at something, anything to excuse the slip of tongue, he couldn't.

"Excuse me, _HE_?" Tweek jumped in mid sentence, "You didn't fucking tell me mystery lover was a _he_ , is that why he's a mystery lover? Are you gay, Kev?"

Kevin instantly seized up, but his breathing became rapid and harsh, "I don't _know_! No, I'm not gay, I'm not. It's not even, we're not even really _properly dating_. Just, I don't. Just-- fuck, you don't need to jump down my throat, alright?"

"You don't need to get all defensive! I'm just a little hurt, you know. I told you the second I even thought when I was, what, twelve?" Tweek whispered, worried that he may say something wrong. He did.

"It's not always about what _you_ want! People are allowed to keep things from you, people are allowed to break up with you-- you need to get over it!" Kevin bit back, possibly harsher than he had intended to. 

"Get over it? Fuck you, don't you dare open your mouth about my breakup." 

Kevin reached his hand out to grab something fragile and throw it against the wall, something, something to smash break in his frustration. Then he looked at Tweek, twitching, heavy breathing, irrational thinking-- and he didn't. He just left the kitchen leaving behind his cloud of frustration to rain on Tweek. Tweek just let out a heavy groan and opened his bottle of vodka.

Terrible start was an understatement. 

**

Tweek found it quite ironic how, even though Kenny had hired a hall for the festivities, everyone preferred to be outside. They seemed to huddle in penguins-like groups as they talked, and danced; couples holding each other dear, attempting to retain the warmth with their body heat; young strangers kissing, wet and drunk with desperation, but heat was heat. The white light that was supposed to light the yard had actually broken months before, so cleverly, the place had been glittered with beautiful lamps and candles, melting over the concrete. The grass had come alive, after months of freezing in the winter night, the feet of the passers by warmed it up and welcomed each strand to join the party. Kenny had done well, it was the talk of the party.   
The best reaction to the place was from the birthday boy himself, Butters. Kenny had taken him hostage after the two of them had a sweet, small dinner in some tiny restaurant, while the finishing touches were put together and the final guests arrived. When Butter's got there, he immediately burst into tears. It was shocking, Tweek thought, what a little kindness to someone who had been so kind to everyone else, could do. It was like watching someone who had been blind their whole lives, see for the first time. If there was someone who deserved to see again it was Butters. His absolute joy bought everyone together, even Tweek and Clyde.

"It's quite amazing, really. How little you can do to make someone happy." Clyde said, leaning in to talk to Tweek. They were standing beside each other, and Tweek didn't have to see Clyde to know that it was him.

At first, Tweek was actually angry at Clyde for talking to him, but he knew that Clyde never played by anybody's rules. Then, Tweek felt a rush of excitement, like this was the first time that he could bombard him with questions, especially 'why?', but he decided that this wasn't the place and Clyde was drunk, so drunk. Finally, Tweek felt calm. Something he had always felt around Clyde. There was a lot of comfort in it. Tweek decided, that it was best to just take a step back and let himself be sedated. 

"He deserves more, though. You know? Butters is the kind of person who always just deserves more." Tweek shrugged, trying his best to sound like he wasn't fighting this constant internal war, started by the boy who was ever so casually talking about the happiness of others. He needed this, he needed a peace agreement.

"You could sing to him, I can be on dance. Or guitar, you're good at guitar." Clyde smirked, as he turned his head to look at Tweek. Tweek could see him out the corner of his eye, but he didn't directly look. It was almost as though he was scared to look. Everything in that moment was so peaceful, his mind was at rest his body felt warm and happy. Looking might have ruined that.

"Or, we could fuck up his parent's house? I'm sure he'd appreciate that more." Tweek jokingly suggested, and as soon as he said the words, he heard that laugh of Clyde's. That laugh that he did when he was happy. It wasn't necessarily because he found it funny, or because he was being polite, but he had a very distinct laugh when he was feeling happy in a particular moment. Clyde was always so, so deeply sad so when there were moments where he was happy, Tweek knew. Tweek just smiled, and he turned to look at him.

Clyde was just as beautiful as Tweek had remembered. But he was a different kind of beautiful. He had cut his hair shorter than he liked it (but Tweek had always loved it that way), his skin had paled so beautifully in the winter, and he still had those wide sparkling eyes-- except, he was gaunt in the face again. He was thin, and although he wasn't as bad as he was when they met, he was unhealthy. That made Tweek's heart jump.

When Clyde was a child, he was always slightly chubby. Tweek remembered his full cheeks and hatred of running from childhood. He remembered comparing hands with him when he was seven, and the difference in size between underweight and stressed Tweek, and Clyde, with his baby weight, who was always happy. Tweek also remembered at about thirteen noticing that Clyde could fit his hand very comfortably around his own wrist, but, being so young, Tweek passed it off. It wasn't until they were five months into dating, when Clyde started to get really bad. It was calorie counters and scales and throwing up and having coffee instead of breakfast and always having 'eaten before he came' when they were going out for dinner.

Looking at him, with his thin cheeks and bird-like wrists, Tweek had flashbacks. He had flashbacks to the night that he was begging for Clyde to get help after he had fainted for the third time in a day. He had flashbacks to the doctor's office and the uncomfortable chairs, to Clyde crying in the car home about the prodding. He remembered the charts all over the bathroom walls. Then the small baby bites, the good calorie counting, the celebration of being able to touch his boyfriend without the fear of hurting him.

There he was, in front of him, slipping back slowly. Tweek wasn't in the position to say anything, so he didn't.

"God, amazing how someone so kind come out of two shitty parents." Clyde continued, and Tweek nodded in agreement.

"Hey, at least he has them, right?" Tweek smirked, Clyde just giggled like a little school girl, "You're very happy tonight."

"I am drunk, is what I am. Not in the sad way. Not in like the way that I used to, like I'm happy drinking and it feels fucking awesome." Clyde hollered, lifting his wine glass in the air. Funny. Clyde drinks wine now.

"You didn't used to drink." Tweek said with a confused stammer and Clyde just sighed.

"I did when we ended. A lot. Like blackout a lot." Clyde said awkwardly, and looked away cautiously, "Got my parents all stressed, big intervention. It's okay now."

Tweek couldn't quite believe how easily Clyde was opening up to him, how he just unraveled. Clyde had always been like that though, he was always just looking for someone to hear him.

"You know they made me quit smoking? How was I supposed to maintain my artistic sad boy aesthetic?" Clyde continued.

"You could make art?" Tweek suggested.

"Oh fuck off, you of all people know I'm a terrible artist. That's why I try so hard to be Jack Kerouac." Clyde scoffed, and it made Tweek laugh. For the first time in what seemed like forever, someone had made Tweek laugh, genuinely laugh. Of course, it was Clyde. Of course, out of all people it was fucking Clyde.

"You need to take up drinking again, then."

"You're right. If I'm going to kill myself young, I'm going to do it right." 

The two of them were laughing together, and it was almost instinctively, Tweek reached his hand out to place it over Clyde's shoulder, but in midair, he stopped himself. He stopped himself because his pulse was becoming too fast, and that little space by his heart felt full again. 

The laughter continued for twenty or so minutes before Tweek found himself behind a rusty old shed with their lips together and hands everywhere. The warmth, the comfort of his mouth and his cool hands up the back of his shirt; mouth on his hips, over and over. It was a haze, and Tweek was pretty sure he didn't even finish properly, because he spent most of the time in his own head. He kept thinking about, although Clyde knew the spots that he liked, and although he knew what Clyde liked-- it was all so different. It was different, different to what he had remembered, and he couldn't figure out why. Of course, he was thinner, scarily so under his thick winter coat, and yes, the people weren't lying about him smelling more like spearmint, but it was something else. It was that deep pull somewhere in his chest, like a compass pointing towards home. Then he realised it wasn't Clyde that was different, it was what he was feeling inside. A certain joy he had lost. A light that had gone out. A return to what he knew. Clyde was home, Clyde was _his_ home, he didn't care about anything else when Clyde was around.

Without thinking, Tweek told him just that. Abruptly, out of nowhere. From meaningless sex to confessions, Tweek took the leap.

"I love you."

"You shouldn't."

"Excuse me?"

"I mean you, you shouldn't. I fucked you up, us up, and you know it. We can't do this."

"It's true love. It's unconditional. I don't care, I don't care, I need you."

"Not true love. Unhealthy love."

"But, I love you."

"I know. But we can't. We can't do this ever again."

With that, Clyde was gone and in his place was this feeling of abandonment. It was okay, because that was all Tweek had grown to know. That, in itself, felt more like home than Clyde.

-

Much to his own surprise, Tweek didn't stay hung up on his encounter with his ex boyfriend. In fact, he couldn't actually remember that much of it at all. So he just sat with on the window of the hall, with his feet dangling off the side. He watched people pass by, so happy and in love with the night. In some odd way, Tweek didn't envy them. In fact, he felt pity for them. In reality, it was very unlikely that any of the couples dancing would stay together forever, and many may end up just like him. Poor fools, Tweek thought to himself, love was a trap.

The night was only just really beginning, and Tweek already was ready to call an Uber and get out as quickly as he possibly could. He felt guilty as he bought it up on his phone, he felt guilty because he was a really close friend of Butters, and he was wanting to leave for his own selfish reasons. Not because of Clyde, or what Clyde had done, but because he was so tired, he was fighting with his best friend and his mouth tasted like cigarettes. He couldn't, because this wasn't his time to be self indulgent. This wasn't his party.

Tweek got up from his own pool of self pity and walked into the crowd of people, where he stood, out of place and just watched people. He saw Stan, and seeing him dancing around with a red haired boy that Tweek couldn't exactly recognize made it hard for him to think that the boy was someone's father. He looked like a teenager, drinking and happy, reclaiming the youth that had been stolen from him. It made him think of Wendy, their high school high achiever, who ended up working in a liquor store and desperately trying to see her two daughters. No one would have guessed that would end in that way.  
He looked over to see Kenny holding the hands and talking to some girl that he had never seen before. Kenny, who was so devoted to his long term girlfriend, ending up hooking up with more girls that Tweek could count in one week. Tweek could understand why he did it, all people cope in different ways.  
Then there was Craig, someone he had trusted, who had taken the broken glass and stabbed it like a spear, into his back.

There was Craig, walking towards him. What bad luck.

"Did you enjoy your coffee?" Craig asked sheepishly, hiding behind his billows of midnight hair. It was surprisingly out of character for Craig, who usually just played it so cool that the temperature in the room dropped. He was always reserved, and because of it, he never got hurt. But Tweek suspected he never really felt great either.

"It was alright. Better if you didn't make it but it's alright." And Tweek swore he wouldn't let the bitterness get to him, but when the boy who fucked your boyfriend is staring at you and has the nerve to make small talk, it was enough to make anyone taste the blood in their mouth.

"Then why didn't you just go to your coffee shop?" Craig asked with a sharp tongue, and Tweek could not only taste red, but see it. He saw it on the walls, in the skyline, in his heart. Craig was acting the innocent, but Tweek wasn't going to buy it.

"Because my mom died, Craig, and we had to sell the place. You _know_ that. You know that place _was_ my coffee shop."

"I'm sorry, Tweek, I didn't know she died."

"My apologies, then. She died the week before you fucked my boyfriend."

"If it's any consolation he moans your name?"

"Are you fucking kidding me? You're literally in the top five shittiest people I've ever met."

"Yeah, okay, alright, I'm sorry. I'm really genuinely sorry. Not just for that comment but for everything. I know that it can't fix anything, but if there's one thing I want you to know, it's that I'm sorry."

There was a dead silence between them. It was almost as though Tweek felt a certain guilt deep in his bones. He could forgive Clyde enough to confess his unconditional love for him, but he couldn't give Craig the good grace to be kind to him? Tweek was being too harsh on some people, and not hard enough on those who deserved it. It was clear that what Craig felt was not easy, that he regretted it, that it was all a mistake.

How could Tweek tell these things? Because Craig was crying. In all his years of knowing him, Tweek had never seen him crying. It was quiet, and he was looking to the ground but Tweek could see it, and he then saw another side to Craig that he had never seen before.

"Don't cry. I-- look, I forgive you."

"You shouldn't. You can't."

"I accept your apologies. For everything. It's the past, you're sincere. It's okay."

"Can... Can I buy you a coffee tomorrow?"

"Yes. Yes, I'd love that."

With that, Tweek knew that he had done the right thing and he had finally, finally, taken steps towards adulthood.

 

**Author's Note:**

> i've always been sp slash trash but i've never really written about it. this was fun, and i'm only in the first chapter. i write a bit every few days so stick around next update coming soon!!!  
> also, if you didn't work out salterwater=crying/tears
> 
> come chat to me about this at dextertiy.tumblr  
> big love Xx


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